


A Different Name

by ceruleanmilieu



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Episode: s11e05 Ghouli, F/M, Post-Episode: s11e05 Ghouli, William | Jackson van de Kamp is Fox Mulder's Child
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:28:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26425666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ceruleanmilieu/pseuds/ceruleanmilieu
Summary: After Scully meets Jackson...
Relationships: Fox Mulder/Dana Scully
Comments: 20
Kudos: 56
Collections: X-Files Episode Fanfic Exchange (2020)





	A Different Name

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bumblebee1220](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bumblebee1220/gifts).



> Prompt: After the events of the case, Mulder and Scully drive home. Which home does Scully go to? They have a discussion about William and his messages to her. What happens next? What happens to all his things? Did they take anything else but the globe? How does this bring them closer?
> 
> Big thanks to crescentmoon223 for the super-duper beta!

She doesn’t say his name. _William._

She doesn’t say it. _He’s alive._

The gas station, filled with cigarettes and candy, vapes and tiny liquor bottles, became a blur as her son appeared in glowing grayscale on the television. The conversation she’d had with the pick-up artist replayed in her head. _I wish I could know you better._

Transfixed by the image, she understood as much as she could ever presume. The stillness within gave way to an abrupt shift, and Scully’s locked knees buckled with a tremor. Wonderment still hung on her face, and she was safe in Mulder’s arms.

“He looks like you…” she said quietly.

Mulder gripped her hips and held her close. “He looks like us.”

She couldn’t pull away. _How is this him? He’s alive. He’s our son._ With shifting feet, she tried to find an amount of poise.

Mulder placed a small kiss on the top of her head and reached into his jacket pocket. His flash of credentials procured a USB stick from the clerk containing the day’s surveillance videos. And he ushered Scully out of the gas station. “I got some Twizzlers for the road.”

Walking over the oil-stained concrete, Mulder reached around her shoulder, pulled her towards him, and she slipped her hand into his. He gripped hers in return and gave a small squeeze. They stopped at the SUV, and she looked up at Mulder’s weary face, searching for similarities in features. Every line reminded her of William, from the bridge of the nose to the brow. 

He opened the car door for her. “Let’s go.”

Mulder closed it gently and walked around to the drivers’ side, still rolling the USB stick in his palm. Joining Scully in the car, he snapped his seatbelt and turned the ignition.

“I can’t believe it, Mulder.” 

He reached across the center console and placed the small piece of proof in her hand. “I’ve accepted that when you’ve said it in the past. But not today.”

She let out a sigh. “I guess it’s just Pavlovian at this point.”

Pulling out of the gas station, Mulder turned right on the tree-lined road. 

“It was him, our son, and he talked to you,” he said. 

“Our middle-aged, dead, shapeshifter son...”

He frowned, stifling a bit of a sick smile. “Actually our kiddo isn’t a shapeshifter per se—”

“Mulder.”

“Sorry.” He rubbed her hand. 

“All three of us are X-Files,” she said. “His ability actually reminds me of Modell, although it’s a more subtle form of manipulation. And, I had the strangest sense of comfort when we were talking. It was like I’d known him my whole life. ”

“I don’t think that feeling was manipulation. He heard what you said. At the morgue. He has to know that you—both of us—love him very much.”

Silence grew, and Mulder looked over to the passenger seat. A sleeping Scully gripped the vial of William’s dark hair. 

x-x-x-x

Mulder drove the speed limit, his eyes on the dotted white lines as memories of 1999 and yesterday intertwined in his consumed mind. They were on his couch, sharing popcorn and Shiner Bock. They were looking through childhood photos of their son at his parents’ home. 

He never expected to be a father. And, after Diana, he’d given up on romantic love. When Scully became his partner in all things, he wanted to give her everything she needed: the truth and a future. But, even his affirmative answer to her IVF request betrayed his indecision on fatherhood. _I don’t want this to come between us._

Sometimes Scully would make googly eyes and give a finger-wiggling wave to a little baby sitting in a grocery store cart or a high-chair at a restaurant. She watched the _Harry Potter_ movies, and he wondered if she thought about where William was and if he owned dog-eared copies of the novels. Scully had declared herself a Ravenclaw, and he was a Gryffindor, always bravely on a quest. She never talked about what house William would belong to, but Mulder, in his limited, yet careful, understanding of the series, had his hopes set on Hufflepuff for his only son. 

_Only son_. The thought echoed in his mind. They never talked about having another child. Not on the run in a seedy motel, atop frayed sheets, as the neighbors through the wall fucked their headboard off. And, not in their safe, cozy and large enough for kids—plural—home. It was a hands-off approach. He had waited, internally wavering on the likelihood of her broaching the topic. The closest they came was her breathless requests for him to finish inside of her. 

He tried not to glance over at Scully. Years ago, he’d learned that she could feel his eyes on her as she slept. Sometimes she jolted awake, yet, others, she lightly yawned herself to a state of semi-consciousness. He secretly loved that she had always felt so comfortable around him, even when she had no reason not to think him a strange man. 

William was almost a man now. _No—Jackson. That’s his new name. Well, the name’s old now. Sixteen years._

As an RV labored past Mulder, he noticed his speedometer: 50 mph. He flipped his turn signal, preparing to exit the freeway. He had decided where to go. 

These cases had brought them back together, but despite their recently rekindled sexual relationship, he knew she was keeping him at a distance emotionally. She’d been through too much, and Mulder knew not to push. The SUV’s navigation system showed an arrival time of 10:12 pm. 

Turning onto a large, yet deserted street with illuminated stucco buildings and sharply hedged landscaping, Mulder second-guessed himself. The D.C. neighborhood they were cruising effortlessly through contained a mix of hip coffee shops, government-adjacent groups and some upscale homes. _Should I’ve taken her home instead? Our home._

As he looked over at Scully, she stirred. 

“We’re here,” he said.

She rubbed her eyes, leaving small, dark smudges of mascara.

x-x-x-x

“You’re leaving?” she asked. 

“I can leave,” he replied. “I can stay…”

She reached in her purse for her house keys and pulled out the 3x5 portrait of Jackson in his baseball uniform. “What’s going to happen to his room? To all of his things?” she asked. 

“I don’t know.”

“I wonder if he has grandparents or aunts and uncles.”

“I wonder if he’s always been this close to us,” Mulder said. “In Virginia, I mean.”

Scully opened the door and went inside. Mulder followed. Kicking her low heels off, she walked through the living room and into the kitchen. “Would you like anything to drink? There’s coffee, water and root beer.”

Mulder smiled, standing amongst the beige walls and high ceilings. “Any iced tea?”

“No,” she replied. “I guess it isn’t love.”

“That’s not funny.”

“Mulder, it’s just a joke,” she said, carrying two cans of the dark beverage.

Taking a seat on her couch, Mulder ran a hand through his hair and apologized for his swift reaction. He took the beverage and tossed a throw pillow out of the way. “Did you steal anything else? I mean other than the snowglobe and that photo?”

“No, but you’re forgetting the laptop,” she said, before changing the subject. “I just love this picture so much.”

Mulder pulled his wallet out and removed the baby picture of William. “I think it would go well in a frame with this one.”

“And a screenshot of that surveillance video would cover all bases.”

“Pun intended? No, we’ll see him again. The fate of the world depends on it.”

“I’m not actually sure that it does, Mulder. What if his visions and his messages to me weren’t prophetic? What if they’re just a manifestation of apocalyptic anxiety and depression?”

“Why does that sound so familiar?”

“I just don’t understand why he would send me these visions, only to use his misdirection when we spoke.”

“Jackson has been through a lot in the past few days. Hell, the past few years according to his website. You saw the medications they had him on. And, losing his parents like that. It was just too much…”

“Jackson,” she said her son’s name.

Pulling her legs close, she snuggled up to Mulder’s side. The comforting bulk of his torso was new to her. She’d always felt safe in his arms, but with his new muscle mass, she continually marveled at his transformation, physical and otherwise. She could smell his cologne and feel his chest rise with his every inhalation. 

“I never thought he’d have a different name. William is a good name,” he said. 

“I, uh, suggested it to the adoption agency, not the actual name, just that they needed to change it. I didn’t want to make it any easier for those assholes to find him. How many boys named William could’ve been born in 2001? With all of their resources it would’ve been only a matter of time.”

“Scully…”

“And it was only a matter of time. The syndicate, or whoever they are now, got there and killed them. God, that couple would be alive if it weren’t for me. Giving him up led to all of this.”

Mulder pulled her close and stroked her hair as she sniffled, stifling tears. “This has been a lot for you, too. Dana, you made the right decision, and I’m sure our son understands. What happened to the Van De Kamps isn’t your fault. They loved him.”

“They took care of him. I feel so awful.”

He gave her a moment. 

“I hate his name, Mulder. I know they had to change it and that I couldn’t know, but I just don’t like thinking of him as a ‘Jackson’.”

“What’s wrong with ‘Jackson’?”

“It’s twee, and it’s not William,” she said stubbornly. 

“Well, I can’t argue with that logic, but I kinda like it. Sounds like a last name. ‘Mulder, Scully and Jackson’. Sort of fitting, isn’t it?”

“Okay, that’s actually nice,” she said. “It’s growing on me now.”

“Do you think he still plays baseball?”

“I don’t know, probably not. He didn’t seem like the jock type to me.”

“I was as skinny and dramatic as him when I was in high school, and I played on the basketball team.”

“What? You’re telling me Fox Mulder was a dramatic teenager?”

“I had a certain flair.” He smiled and took a sip of root beer. 

She wiped her eyes and stretched her legs. “I bet I look like a raccoon.”

“A beautiful raccoon. Bright eyed after that nap too.”

Scully glanced at her wristwatch. “Are you getting tired, Mulder? It’s pretty late.”

“Trying to get rid of me?”

“No, I don’t want you to leave,” she said quietly. 

He pulled her close and kissed her with a gentleness that she sorely needed. Stroking her hand, he broke away. “We shouldn’t.”

“Let’s go to bed. We can talk or sleep. I don’t care which.”

They both stood up, and Mulder placed his soda can on a coaster. He picked up the bag Scully had carried inside and pulled Jackson’s laptop out. “We could take another look at it… see if there’s anything that’ll help us figure out where he’s heading.”

Walking down the hallway to the bedroom, Scully unbuttoned her blouse. She pulled her hair back, and she couldn’t wait to get into her pajamas. 

Stripped to the waist, Mulder asked if she was comfortable with him in his boxers. She shrugged.

She wanted to be held, to feel close to the father of her child. After everything they had seen in the past days, she wanted nothing more than to stop thinking. No more mental images of William with a bloody hole in his head. No more guilt-ridden pervasive thoughts of his gunned-down parents. 

He looked around her bedroom, curiously surveying the sparse aesthetic before climbing into bed and pulling the covers on Scully’s side back for her. She climbed in too and flipped the lamp off. 

“We could listen to some music,” he suggested. 

She handed him Jackson’s laptop from the nightstand and snuggled close, her cold feet intertwined with his. 

He opened the laptop. “There isn’t any music in his iTunes.”

“The kids don’t use that. They do Spotify. It’s the green icon.”

“Ah, my Scully, so young and so hip. It looks like our choices are: Brockhampton, Death Grips, Childish Gambino, Lil Peep...There’s a bunch more. I don’t recognize any of this.

“Me neither. Do you think Death Grips makes music to fall asleep to?” 

“Let’s find out.”

x-x-x-x

Sleep had transported Mulder to a place where time and logic didn’t exist. Waking brought the scent of crisp linen, and he knew where he was. His morning erection reminded him that he was alive, and he was glad that he didn’t need to ask Scully for a Cialis prescription. 

He always hated waking up alone. He had wanted to open his eyes to a mass of red hair amongst the white sheets. _Why does this surprise me?_

He grabbed the laptop that had laid between them throughout the night and placed it on the nightstand. Scooting up to the headboard, he stretched his arms and wiggled his toes.

Scully, wearing his oversized gray t-shirt, walked into her bedroom holding two matching mugs of espresso. “‘Morning.”

“Nice to see you, too.” He moved to the edge of the mattress. “You look so good. How come I don’t look like that in my t-shirts?”

She smiled, set the hot drinks down, and walked over to Mulder. Standing in front of him, she looked down and ruffled his hair.

His fingers traced lines up her bare thighs and beneath the hanging shirt. “You’re never around when I wake up?”

“I wake up earlier than you do,” she deadpanned. 

“Ah, yes, that’s it.” He slipped a finger under the side of her underwear. “I don’t know how long we can keep doing this, Scully.”

“Doing what?”

“Fucking and leaving,” he said.

“I’m not sure if I’m ready to change anything...”

He sighed.

“Just yet…” she whispered.


End file.
